


A final catalyst

by Nalyra



Series: Tips of antlers, breaking free [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Drunk Hannibal, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: Written inspired for/from the #HannibaLibre challenge, and of course Bryans tweets (again^^).Cuba Libre and truths.______Wanted to write fluff but became a bit angsty (with happy ending) instead.Hope you like it!





	

„Hannibal?“

Wills voice rings out over the patio, the low afternoon sun having warmed the stones, insects huddling in the few shadows, the little lizards scuttling away when he steps closer. Will hesitates for a moment and then listens closely for a moment, more to himself and their shared memory palace than anything else, the house eerily quiet. He frowns and then turns toward the inner courtyard, traversing the living room and dining area in the process, the only sign of this houses other occupant the discarded kindle, lying desolate on the dining room table. Will steps close to it and then traces its casing for a moment, deliberating. His gaze falls onto the empty ice cube tray in the kitchen sink visible through the open double doors, a lone broken in half ice cube melting still in it.

Will tilts his head, eyes narrowing and then steps into the kitchen and opens the fridge on an impulse, checking the door shelf, the lone huge half gallon coke bottle he put there on a whim last week almost empty. He opens the vegetable drawer and finds the limes gone and Will raises his eyebrows, closing the refrigerator again with a soft click. He pulls the garbage drawer open to confirm, the squished and cut up lime quarters of at least 4 limes greeting him. 

Will traces his lips for a moment, tapping them in thought, his mind racing through the possible triggers, anything and nothing possibilities as well. It’s been three months since they arrived here, their relationship still on a hair trigger at times, weirdly cautious and almost reluctantly intimate at other times. The build up to …. something has been undeniable, set back by the fall and healing and fleeing, no time to think, no time to talk properly, only necessity a cruel dictating power, the resulting tension making Will leave the house again and again, Hannibal unwilling or unable to talk to Will, feelings poisoned by fear of leaving. And Will, for all their history, or maybe exactly because of it, unable to put it into words. 

Will bumps his fist on the counter and then drops his head back, sighing deeply, rolling his shoulders, the right one still hurting every time he pulls the muscles. He reaches up with his left and massages it for a moment, fingers kneading. The tinkle of glass on stone drifts over from the courtyard and a soft curse follows it, Wills left eyebrow going up in amused surprise. He opens the fridge again and takes a beer out, opening it and leaving the cap on the counter, next to the mostly empty bottle of expensive rum, half hidden between the expensive oils. He takes a fortifying sip and then follows the echo of the tinkling sound over the hallway and out into the inner courtyard, grateful for the shadow from the few select trees, leaning against the door for a moment, taking the scene in.

Hannibal is on one of the lounge chairs, wearing a linen suit and some old fashioned hat, looking settled and dignified. And plastered. Will works his jaw, trying desperately to keep a straight face, knowing outright laughter would just escalate… whatever it is that has festered between them. He closes his eyes for a moment and then steps forward, picking the glass with the rest of the ice cubes up in the process, obviously tipped over by unsteady fingers. Which are laced in a show of nonchalance now, Hannibals half lidded eyes watching sluggishly from the shadow of his hat.

He sits down heavily on the lower half of the lounge chair, Hannibals crossed legs leaving more than enough room. He closes his eyes and raises his face to the blue sky above them, the light breeze ruffling his curls, his beard trimmed very neat, hiding the scar. He feels Hannibal shift slightly before he speaks, words slurred by alcohol, the ‚cuba libre‘ having been a very generous mixture if the smell is anything to go by.

„One day…“

Hannibal pauses, obviously trying to collect his thoughts, before pressing on, doggedly almost.

„One day, you are going to leave, aren’t you…“

Will sighs through his nose and then pulls a face, shaking his head in the process. 

„No, I…“

He pauses and then opens his eyes, unseeing on the sky.

„… I don’t know. This isn’t sustainable.“

Hannibal snorts darkly and cackles, and Wills eyes snap to his, amused and astonished at the crude sound. Hannibal waves at him with his right, direction slightly off.

„Your continuing tries to kill me you mean. Tell me, Will….“

Hannibal pauses again, licking his lips, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

„Tell me, are you still trying to do it with your hands?“

Will laughs harshly, something in his chest hurting. He forces the words past that hurt, hurling them back, though trying to keep the tone light.

„Well, I did pull you over with them, didn’t I…“

Hannibal snorts again and Will returns his gaze to the glass in his hand, swirling the almost melted ice cubes around in the quarters of soggy limes. He puts it and his bottle down with a grimace, hesitating for an instant before he comes up again, feeling overwhelmingly weary, the emotional exhaustion open in his voice, almost stifled by a sob that is not allowed out, supporting his weight with elbows on his knees, head low.

„Is this… is this what you wanted? For both of us?“

He turns to Hannibal on the last few words, forcing the truth, masks nonexistent on Hannibals face right now. Hannibals jaw works, his mouth twitching into an almost snarl, and then something in him snaps and he hurls the hat at Will in a surprisingly fluid motion, growling the answer at him, eyes flashing and hair falling into his eyes, the hat tumbling to the stone floor unheeded.

„This is not all I ever wanted, no, Will. But it is what you have reduced us to.“

Will pulls a face and then something in him shifts, his neck prickling. He hisses the words, vicious and brutal in intent.

„Oh please… don’t be so fucking high and mighty, Hannibal. You play, you pay…“

Will grins sardonically, tasting bile. 

„And you played so hard…“

Hannibal truly snarls at him at this, and Will finds himself suspended in a moment of clarity, awareness triggered that he has never seen Hannibal so raw and honest before, the closest to that night on the cliff probably, brutally open. He swallows and the fury drops away again suddenly, his heart conversely still beating in his throat. Something must have shown on his face and even managed to pierce through the alcohol induced fog of Hannibals mind because he regards Wills face for a long moment before staggering to his feet, swaying for a moment. 

Will pushes himself up and then steps over to him, intending to help but Hannibal slaps his hand away and Will mutters ‚fuck you‘ under his breath, reaching again, more insistingly. There is a growl and a short battle of hands and then world spins as Hannibal twirls him around, fists in his shirt, Wills head connecting with the stone wall next to the glass door, hard. He moans sharply, feels the panted breaths on his face, Hannibals hands still gripping too tightly, body heat searing. He opens eyes he does not recall closing an locks them with Hannibals, red almost eclipsed by fathomless black. 

And suddenly everything that stood between them the last few months drops away, literally everything utterly inconsequential. Will smiles wryly, somewhat bitterly and then shakes his head slowly, releasing a shuddering breath. He swallows and then tightens his own hands on Hannibals shirt, pulling him another fraction closer, his voice trembling a bit and yet steely, unrelenting, hurling the words out to shatter whatever it is that is making their life here a proverbial hell, deciding to dare it all.

„Is it still beautiful?“

Hannibal freezes before him, black eyes boring into Wills, his face a mask of furious adoration and deadly intensity, sending a tremor of almost fear up Wills spine, breath puffing on Wills cheek. Will inhales shakingly, wondering for a split second if he can get drunk on the alcohol in Hannibals breath, before all the thoughts are gone, erased by the feeling of Hannibals lips on his own, pressing messily and uncomfortably, stubble rasping roughly, chapped lips too wet. Will inhales through his nose harshly, trying to gather a thought, his insides churning. 

He pushes Hannibal away with all his strength after a moment, forcing them apart a fraction, their lips separating with a wet smack, and Will raises his chin, teeth bared, his voice a hiss.

„Is this what this is?“

Hannibal snarls at him, his voice gravelly, words half growled.

„And, denying us is your wrath?“

Will flicks his eyes back and forth between Hannibals at this, emotionally reaching, before snorting darkly. 

„The wrath of the lamb… Lamb is sacrificial.“

Hannibal hisses the words this time, flayed open, finally, here, with Will, sobering up rapidly.

„I do not require a sacrifice.“

Will raises his eyebrows, eyes boring into Hannibals.

„What if I do?“

Hannibal shifts before Will, blinking rapidly. When he speaks he sounds defeated, voice weary.

„Anything.“

Will sighs softly and everything in him deflates, all the fury leaving an echoing quiet, voice eerily calm, brutally honest.

„Always…“

Hannibal inhales a shuddering breath, almost a sob and collapses in Wills grip, his head descending onto Wills shoulder and Will releases the shirt, enfolding him in an embrace, just holding for long moments. Hannibals hands drop from his shirt at some point, locking in the small of Wills back, pulling him in and Will relaxes his stance, melting into the pull.

Will sighs deeply after long minutes, hands coming up and starting to play with the small hairs in Hannibals nape, almost unconsciously, eyes open, unseeing on the sky beyond the courtyard. Hannibal turns his head into Wills neck, his hands tightening even more and Will does not even try to suppress the shiver that runs through him, this the most peaceful they have been with each other since that fateful night. He exhales shudderingly when Hannibal presses his lips to his jugular, closed lips pressing almost harshly, the beat transmitted like a drum. 

He could end it here, Will muses, a small bite with sharp teeth, like a cut, like… her. 

Here, in peace. 

It would be fitting.

The lips open slowly against his throat and Wills eyes close, letting himself fall, accepting whatever this may be. The teeth scrape and tug at the skin and it runs through Will, shuddering through his limbs, igniting his nerves, and he bites hard down onto the moan that wants to escape, eyes squeezing shut now. The mouth opens wider and the wet heat almost distracts from the hands dropping lower, lower until they are way beyond decent conduct and kneading, making Will light headed, the sharp bite into the juncture of neck and shoulder forcing the moan out this time and he tightens his fingers into a fist in Hannibals hair, forcing his head up with all his strength, panting. 

He licks his lips, trying to form words, sees Hannibals eyes darken impossibly more, swaying gently in Wills arms, Hannibals hands still on his hips. A sharp wave of… something hits Will and he grins suddenly, shaking his head, letting it all drop away, victorious in surrender. He bends his knees slowly, reaching for his bottle of beer with one hand, careful not to destroy the weird bubble of reality they find themselves in right now, Hannibal still open and raw, silent. Receptive. Will gets back up again and then raises the bottle in his left hand, saluting slightly, voice amused.

„You know, it may have been too much ‚libre‘, especially for my… taste…“

He smirks on the last words, taking the sting out of them, seeing Hannibals eyes narrow in suspicious confusion and Will laughs softly at this, bringing the bottle up to his lips. He takes a large sip, tightens his right hand in Hannibals hair and forcibly turns his head and pulls him in, their lips touching softly after a moment, sending electricity down Wills spine, just holding. Hannibal freezes for a moment and then he groans, the sound traveling through Will. Hannibals hands hook into Wills belt loops and then his mouth forces Wills open, swallowing some of the beer spilling between them down, his tongue impossibly hot when it follows the cold liquid, going deep. Will groans harshly and then starts to return the favor, the aroma of rum, coke, limes and beer mixing with the elusive flavor of Hannibal and Will moans helplessly, chasing after it.

Hannibals hands drop again after a moment, moving ever closer with his body, the kiss deep, wet and messy now, and Will shifts his stance, giving him room, moaning low in his throat when Hannibals left hand presses inwards for a moment, tracing, instantly taking advantage. He does it again and Will wrenches his head sideways, breaking the kiss, hissing through is teeth, feeling the answering hardness press close to his own, not hidden at all in the thin cloth trousers they are wearing. 

Hannibal bends his head and returns to the spot of before, the groan stealing itself out of Will extremely loud in the open air. He feels Hannibal chuckle against his throat and Will cannot help it, he starts laughing softly as well, the tension fully dropping away, leaving only them, in the shadows against the wall of their house, air hot around them. 

Hannibal pulls him even tighter after another moment, their bodies flush against each other, and Will drops the bottle onto the chaise, uncaring, his hands going back up around his shoulders. He bows his head down and presses a kiss to the soft skin behind his right ear, feels the shudder this action elicits. He bends a bit lower and licks at the earlobe, feeling slightly out of body, daring, far out of his depth but trying. Will exhales shudderingly, and then licks again, feeling the full body shudder run through Hannibal, under his hands. Hannibal sucks on the skin and then presses his hips forward, slowly, retreating again, a suggestion, waiting again. Will groans and shakes his head slowly, more at himself, the choices there and accepted so long ago already, the small pieces of the puzzle they are slotting into place finally. 

He pulls Hannibal back up, not much strength needed this time, his stubble dragging through Wills, over the just healed scar in his cheek, the rasp deliciously intense. Hannibal noses along his face, eyes closed, hands slowly going up, pulling the shirt out in Wills back, his hands hot on Wills sweaty skin. Will hums and then turns his head more, their lips catching, the soft kiss more truly a first kiss, holding and enjoying, softly gliding, tugging, breaking something in Wills chest and he inhales shakingly on the sob that finally forces itself out, met by an answering raw sound uttered by Hannibal, unbelieving, pressing ever closer. 

Hannibal breaks the kiss this time, withdrawing reluctantly, pressing his lips together, his face contrite. He shakes his head once, fingers, tracing Wills spine, making him shiver.

„I…“

Hannibal stops and Will watches him, softly petting, knowing where this is going already. Hannibal starts again, one hand coming to Wills lips, tracing softly.

„We need to stop. I will not be able to properly tend to you like this.“

He stops, obviously enraged at himself, a cruel expression setting on his face and Will smirks, echoing some of it, letting it reverberate in the air between them, his voice firm.

„You will try.“

Hannibals eyes snap to his, brows drawing together a fraction, his expression dangerous. Will leans very near, whispering against the finger on his mouth, uncaring.

„This will end here. It has festered long enough. Especially considering the fact that you kissed me in that stupid police car a felt eternity ago. Even if that peck wasn’t much of a kiss…“

He touches the tip of his tongue to Hannibals finger, sees and feels the effect this has and grins, harshly, eyes sparkling, humming softly before he continues.

„You’re right though, you will not fuck me just yet…“

Hannibal inhales harshly and sways a bit in his arms, the heat agains Wills pulsing for a moment and Will cackles, feeling more free by the second. He whispers almost inaudibly, destroying the final resistance. 

„But, you may use your hands on us both, Hannibal.“

Hannibal groans and then uses his finger to push down on Wills lower lip, pushing his mouth open, the action somehow utterly filthy and debauched, especially when he leans forward and licks into Wills mouth, his finger still between them. Will moans and then starts when Hannibal pulls his other hand forward, opening Wills fly and reality stops, leaving them suspended in surreality. Will gasps and then drops his own hands to Hannibals fly in bewildered fatalism, closing his eyes when he feels the heat and weight, the skin much softer than anticipated, the wetness at the head of course expected and yet forcing a tortured moan out of Will, intensified when Hannibal begins to stroke him in turn, slowly. Hannibal pushes his hips forward and Will is pressed back against himself in Hannibals hand and a low moan, drawn out, forces itself out, echoed by Hannibal. He is looking down between them and Will drops his head onto Hannibals shoulder now, squeezing his eyes shut, Hannibals other hand dropping down between them as well, gently pushing Wills hands away and Will gasps quietly, gripping onto Hannibals shirt tightly.  
Hannibal takes them both together and starts stroking slowly, oh so slowly, the emotional buildup having them both close to the edge within moments, harsh gasps filling the small courtyard, the panted breaths loud in the rays of the blood red setting sun. Hannibal raises his head and then pushes his face agains Wills, eyes closed, the movement of his hands taking up speed, and Will opens his mouth in a silent scream, the low cadence of Hannibals voice pushing him over the edge.

„I love you, Will.“

Will jerks and lets himself fall into the feeling, the white hot ecstasy running through him, moaning harshly through it, Hannibals hand milking him dry, prolonging the pleasure with frightening precision. And then Will drops his hand to Hannibals and squeezes and it is all it takes, Hannibal jerking in his arms, almost silent, teeth clenched in a snarl, grip almost painful.

Will pulls him in when he can breathe properly again, feeling emotionally exhausted, no empathy needed to know that Hannibal feels the same. He presses a kiss to his head, dropping his own back against the wall, starting to chuckle. Hannibal joins in after a moment, drawing back slowly, releasing them, drawing a hiss from them both, which in turn triggers another laugh, this time in unison.

Will sobers quietly, looking solemnly at Hannibal and then reaches out with his right hand, uncaringly taking Hannibals messy left in his own, voice relaxed and amused, knowing it will only get better from here, finally.

„Bed, now, Hannibal. If you’re good I’ll even let you cuddle me.“

Hannibal regards him with drawn up eyebrows, a small smirk playing in the corners of his mouth. He leans close and pushes a small kiss onto Wills nose, making him snicker. Hannibals voice is grave and yet amused when he answers, brutal honesty.

„This is all I ever wanted, Will.“

Will smiles a wavering smile, feels tears prickle in his eyes. He continues the sentence, teeth flashing.

„For both of us.“

Hannibal nods, smiling painfully, voice raw.

„It’s beautiful.“

Will nods once and then draws his right arm up over Hannibals shoulder, slowly, drawing him near. He smirks and uses his weight to gain momentum, pushing Hannibal slowly towards the house, both of them stumbling, falling over themselves. Hannibal flings his left arm out and catches them and Will smiles at him through the tears in his eyes and the rushing in his ears, like the waves of the sea, roiling far below.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments feed my muse :)


End file.
